White Noise
by GorimJr
Summary: After a mysterious drug caused an entire building to die, Peter hears of a woman in St. Claire's who predicted the attack nearly two weeks before it happened. Is this woman connected to the Cortexiphan trials, and will she be able to help?
1. Chapter 1

**I decided to write out another story, a big one. I think it'll be interesting. **

Nina Sharp was not in a happy mood. But one wouldn't be, under the circumstances.

Having been shot about a week earlier, she'd since recovered from that horrible day and gotten back to work, as was her wish. The Philadelphia Office of Massive Dynamic had been working on something of great importance to her and the solving of the Pattern, and they had been instructed to call her or her office to report on their findings every few days, preferably every day. Normally, they did just that.

They hadn't been heard from for weeks.

Her driver pulled up in front of the office, and Nina stepped out. The place seemed almost abandoned, only a few lights flickered in the massive structure, and a sense of dread cut through the irritation. It was dusk, and Philadelphia seemed strangely dark and foreboding with MD suddenly dead like this.

She got out and walked up to the front door. She peered inside, but didn't see anything. Suddenly a bit nervous, she took out a flashlight, took a deep breath, and walked in.

It was completely quiet, not a sound or flicker of light or movement in the large, tiled front room, as far as Nina could tell. Turning the light towards the front desk, she jumped in shock.

A woman, possibly in her thirties with blond hair, sat at the desk. For a sick, ugly moment, Nina thought it was Dunham. Brushing away the foolish thought, she walked up to the woman, who looked like she was asleep.

"Miss," Nina said sharply. The word echoed through the dark room. "Miss, wake up, please." The woman made no movement, and then Nina realized that the woman's eyes were open.

She stumbled back in shock, then got a hold of herself. She covered her mouth and nose and ran out of the building. Her driver got out of the car at the sight of her sprinting from the building, and took out his phone, but sheepishly put it back when Nina took out hers and shook her head sternly.

"Broyles? It's Nina Sharp. I think you should send Miss Dunham to have a look at this."

--

A sharp knock came at Peter's door at about 8:00 at night. Peter looked up from the Lost season finale and got up.

"This is ludicrous." Walter said irritably. "As if an entire island could have it's own unique time and space. Absurd."

"Walter, in this last week, we've had to run across New England to stop a guy with teleportation leprosy walk through a weak spot in the universe into another reality. Cut J.J. Abrams some slack." Peter said as he opened the door. Walter scoffed.

Olivia Dunham stood at the doorway.

"Hey, sorry, but… Nina Sharp called." She said. Walter made another outraged sound, and Olivia peered around Peter, confused. "Is he alright?"

"Lost apparently isn't familiar with Fringe Science." Peter said wryly. "What happened?"

Olivia Dunham walked into the room, and the TV caught her eye as she turned to Walter.

"Is this the season finale?" She asked Walter.

"Yes, but it's completely idiotic." He snapped. She smiled, chuckling a little, and Peter rolled his eyes.

"Walter…"

"Anyway," Olivia continued. "Walter, could you pay attention?"

"With pleasure." The mad scientist turned off the TV with a look of disgust and turned to Olivia.

"Alright. We got a call from Nina Sharp." She continued. "Apparently, the Philadelphia Division of Massive Dynamic is supposed to call in to Nina Sharp every day-"

"Why?" Peter asked.

"She hasn't said exactly; only that it's important in stopping the Pattern. Anyway, they didn't call for nearly a month and a half, so she went to check on them. And, when she went in, she saw a body and called."

"Have people been sent in?" Peter asked, shocked.

"Yes. Everyone in the building is dead. But there's no violence, so sign of a struggle… It's like they just stopped moving or eating or breathing. Some died of starvation, others of suffocation."

Peter looked a little sick. Walter frowned.

"How odd…" He said quietly. Peter shook his head.

"Odd doesn't cover it."

"Miss Dunham, can you take us to Philadelphia?"

--

The Fringe Division walked through the darkened halls of the Philadelphia branch of Massive Dynamic, silent and grim. The bodies that littered the halls and filled the chairs and desks weren't bloody or beaten. They were emaciated or blue, and were lying down or sitting, their faces peaceful. A gentle, quiet death. But one of a massive scale.

Peter, Walter and Olivia were in the white suits, as was required with a potential bio-hazard. There was really nothing they could do. Walter asked for a few to be taken to his lab, but now the were just witnessing this quiet massacre.

"Peter…" Walter said quietly.

"Yeah, Walter?" Peter asked, his voice equally quiet. In places like this, quiet was sacred, the place itself hallowed ground. To talk loudly almost seemed cruel.

"I think I know what killed them."

**Poor Lost. Walter is not pleased with them. XD**


	2. Chapter 2

**SamuelSpaz: Thank you! I thought it was hilarious too. I cracked up imagining it. D**

**Mr Super Czar: Thank you very much! I hope you keep reading!**

"Many years ago, the government wanted Bellie and I to create a drug." Walter explained later as he and Peter dissected one of the bodies.

"Big surprise…" Peter muttered as Walter handed him the woman's heart.

"They wanted to use the drug to make people less inclined to violence. In essence, it would decrease the amount of adrenaline projected by the brain. However… The side effects were… unexpected."

Peter frowned. "Side effects?"

"The people under the influence of the drug lost all interest in everything. Working. Eating. Drinking. Sex." Peter made a pained face, as he always did when his father mentioned sex. "Eventually, they even stopped breathing. Of course, that wasn't the only side-effects."

"Like what?" Peter asked, really, really scared to know the answer.

"About 10% of the test subjects exhibited the exact opposite. They became insane, overly-aggressive. Two of the subjects killed each other."

"Geez, Walter…" Peter said quietly. "And you think this is it?"

"I believe so, though I'll have to perform some tests on the brains of the victims, however." Walter said, staring sadly at the peaceful face of the woman they were performing the autopsy.

Olivia strode in. "Hey. Do we have anything on the victims."

"Yeah," Peter said. "Walter thinks that the deaths are connected to a drug that he and William Bell made decades ago."

"You're gonna have to explain that, Walter." Olivia said, looking a little grossed-out by the autopsy.

"Well, the drug was stolen from the lab after it was created. After the side-effects became clear, we put it away. But soon afterwards, someone broke into our lab and stole a great many things, including several bottles of the drug, along with a microscope, a mini-fridge, and my favorite record…" He looked incredibly sad.

"I'm so sorry for you." Peter said sarcastically.

"Did you ever find out who did it?" Olivia asked.

"No. The police believed it was just some college kids. They never arrested anyone." Walter said. "I never did get that record back."

"Again… I'm so sorry for you." Peter said, laughing softly. Walter smiled.

"Thank you, Son." He said. Peter shook his head.

"Well, what was the drug?" Olivia asked.

"G-6 Paxilicyde," Walter said promptly. "Or 'Pax'."

"Wait a minute." Peter said promptly. "You can't remember what you had for breakfast this morning, but you can remember the name of a drug that didn't work in the first place?"

Walter smiled sheepishly. Peter shook his head wonderingly.

"Well, anyway…" Olivia said slowly, smiling a little. "What else have you got from the autopsy."

"Not much. Technically, they all died naturally. No blood; nothing seems to be wrong with their organs or anything. Though…" he stopped, wincing. "Some of them were seriously heavy smokers." Olivia smiled slightly.

Peter's cell phone rang, and, checking the caller I.D., he frowned and walked away from them, answering the phone. "Hello?"

"So, Walter, who else would have some of this drug?" Olivia asked.

"I have no idea. After the side effects became obvious, the government didn't want it. We didn't make anymore. We'd had about eight vials of the stuff."

"How many were stolen?"

"I'd hazard a guess at four."

"How much destruction would that bring about?" Olivia asked slowly.

"A vial would be more than enough to do what happened today." He said sadly. "It was very potent." Olivia sighed.

"Okay. Thanks, Zoey. I owe you one." He laughed. "Maybe. Okay, thanks again. Bye." Peter hung up the phone and walked back over to his father and his friend.

"Who was that?" Olivia asked.

"A friend of mine from St. Claire's. She's a nurse there." Peter explained.

"Oh… From St. Claire's?" Walter asked, looking a bit scared. Peter patted his shoulder.

"I'm not sending you back, Walter. I asked her to watch the place a tell me whether anybody was… stranger than usual. Since some stuff's been happening there."

"Oh…" Olivia said. "So… 'Zoey' is just a friend?" Peter grinned.

"Yeah. Though I owe her a date now." He said slyly. Olivia's face went blank as he continued, his eyes bright with amusement. "She said that there's this woman there who draws pictures-"

"Thrilling." Olivia said sourly. Peter rolled his eyes and continued.

"Zoey said that she was looking at the older pictures, and two weeks ago, this woman drew a picture of what happened at the Massive Dynamic office." Olivia looked up sharply.

"What's this woman's name?"

"Angela Ostrose."

**For those who are catching the Serenity references, Kudos. You're offically my friend.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Jasper303: NEW FRIEND! FYI, Angela looks like River and Zoey looks like Inara. XD I couldn't resist. Besides, River inspired Angela. Well, her and that crazy chick from Silent Hill 2. She scares me... See more of Jealous!Olivia in this chap! D**

**Mr Super Czar: I make a point of replying to each review. I hate it when I put in a review and get no reply (this always happens), so I try to reply to comments. Plus, this gets more people to comment, which I love! **

Peter watched Olivia leave the college campus in her car, wincing at the thought of another person with questionable sanity residing in the lab. It was tough enough for he and Astrid with just Walter, but this Angela Ostrose seemed like trouble.

Olivia had looked her up. Angela "Angie" Ostrose was diagnosed with schizophrenia, acute paranoia, and delirium. At the age of seventeen, she attacked and killed her stepfather, insisting that he was going to rape and murder her and her mother. The relationship between the family members had been fine before that.

To Peter, it just seemed like Angela was insane. But it struck something in Olivia, who immediately went off to St. Claire's with a court order. As Peter watched her, he wondered what the appearance of this woman named Angela would do to the whole situation.

Absorbed in his thoughts as he was, he didn't notice the man walk up.

He was tall and dark-haired, with dark blue eyes and a sad-looking face. He stood next to Peter for a moment, then leaned against the wall next to him and pulled out a cigarette.

"You want a smoke, Peter?" He asked, his voice deep and rough. Peter blinked out of his reverie, saw who it was, tensed slightly, and said, "No. I stopped smoking." The man laughed as he lit his cigarette. "Good. I wish I could do that." He said good-naturedly. Peter sighed.

"What are you doing here, Mischa?" He asked quietly. The man's smile vanished.

"I talked to Tess," he said. "We're worried about you."

"Thanks. There's no need for it."

"Hell, Bishop." Mischa snarled, inhaling smoke and exhaling it slowly. "You're not supposed to be stupid. Did you get hit on the head recently?" Peter snorted with amusement, but said nothing. "Peter," Mischa said crossly. "You know you've practically got a price on your head. Why aren't you taking this more seriously? You beat Michael, for Christ's sake!"

"Did you see the bruises?" Peter asked darkly. Mischa sighed.

"Yes, Peter. I saw them. I also saw the broken nose and black eye you gave Mike."

"He deserved it." Peter said sullenly. Mischa laughed shortly.

"Yeah, he did. But that's not the point. The point is, now, Eddie knows you're here. You're gonna get your ass beat, Peter." Peter bit his lip in an unusual sign of distress.

"I'll be fine." He said, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

"Sure, Peter…" Mischa sighed. Hesitating, he said, "You sure you don't want a smoke?" Peter was silent for a second, then sighed and held out his hand. Shaking his head, Mischa handed him a cigarette.

--

Olivia strode into St. Claire's, eager to met the woman called Angela. Much to her distaste, standing there, waiting for her, was Summner.

Summner hadn't made a good first impression on Olivia. Last time they'd come to St. Claire's, he'd had Walter sedated and locked up. Walter hadn't come back the same, and Olivia worried about what, exactly, had happened. She was sure Peter felt the same way.

"Agent Dunham," he said, and Olivia had the sudden knowledge that the dislike she felt was mutual. "You've come yet again."

"Yes." She said, holding out the court order. "And I've come prepared. Yesterday, I received word that a woman here was-"

"Drawing pictures, yes." Summner said dismissively, ignoring the paper. "Excuse me if I'm not impressed."

"Two weeks ago, she drew a picture of a massacre that occurred recently, before anyone else knew about it." Olivia said forcefully. "I would like to see her. If this pans out, I have permission to take her out of your custody temporarily and bring her to the lab."

"Yes, the 'Lab'," he smirked. "Will she be in Peter Bishop's care?"

"No. She'll be in the care of the State, temporarily." Olivia snapped, not caring for Summner's tone.

The man smirked. "Fine. Zoey!"

A young woman strode up quickly. She was tall and slender, younger than Olivia by a few years, with a pale, pretty, heart-shaped face and long, wavy black hair tied up into a high ponytail. She wore the normal St. Claire's attire, hospital blues, but Olivia admitted grudgingly that she was gorgeous. Zoey motioned for her to follow and led her deeper into St. Claire's.

Olivia had been here twice before, and neither time had been particularly pleasant, though they'd certainly been eventful. The first time had been to recruit Walter Bishop. The second was to speak with Dashiell Kim.

Zoey lead her up several flights of stairs before speaking.

"So… Peter says you investigate things others can't."

"Something like that, yes." Olivia said. "Though he really shouldn't be talking about it. It's classified."

"Ah. Well…" Zoey hesitated. "He's nice, isn't he? Peter."

"Yeah, he's a good friend." Olivia said.

"Oh. So you're not his girlfriend?" Zoey asked, surprised.

Olivia blinked, startled. "No. Why?"

"Nothing. Just… He talks about you like you are. Anyway," Zoey quickly changed the subject, coming to a halt in front of a door. "Here's Angela's room." She knocked. "Angela? Honey? There's someone here to see you. It's important." When no reply came, Zoey opened the door.

The room was sparsely furnished, with a small bed, a nightstand, and a table in the center, with a couple of chairs. That was it, but it was more than what many residents of St. Claire's had.

A small, emaciated woman sat at the table, scribbling frantically. She had long, wavy brown hair, and was wearing a white t-shirt and white pants, her hair tied back loosely. Her face, Olivia saw, was cherubic, in contrast to her skinny body, with a full mouth and large, round, dark brown eyes. The overall look was beauty, but somewhat frightening.

Angela looked up.

"Hello, Olive." She said quietly.

**Dun dun duuun. **

**P.S. In honor of the Supernatural finale, Mischa is played by Mischa Collins, A.K.A. Castiel. I love him. XD He's awesome.**

**Peter always struck me as someone who did self-destructive things. Smoking, drinking, etc. Not drugs, though. He doesn't strick me as a druggie.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ooooo, lookit all the comments!**

**SamuelSpaz: Yes... I hate it when authors don't update, so I do try.**

**MSC: Thank you! I get the feeling that Angela will be interesting to write.**

**Observer101: *hugs* Thanks for reading it, Livvy! I hope I haven't disappointed!**

**Jasper303: Hehe... Mischa is hot. Yes indeed. And I too believe that he could do worse, it just... he just doesn't like to. Because, deep down, he's a marshmellow. A twinkie. XD**

**Ocien: That's fine; I didn't expect many to anyway. But do check out Firefly and Serenity. They're very, very good.**

**I Was Here Moments Ago: ^ ^ Thanks for checking it out! You can't? I can totally picture him smoking.**

Olivia shifted through the drawings. Each were dated and signed, each were of events related to the Pattern.

One was charcoal. A little girl sat huddled in a corner, the room surrounding her charred. It struck a chord in Olivia, though she wasn't sure why.

Another had Olivia strapped to a table, an event she remembered vividly.

Another, dated nearly two months ago, was of William Bell, sitting at the desk she'd seen in his Twin Tower office.

Another was of cold halls, filled with people who seemed to be sleeping, but Olivia knew that they weren't.

And, finally, the one she'd been working on. One of Peter smoking with another, taller, sadder looking man.

_Peter doesn't smoke…_ Olivia thought, confused, as she looked through the pictures. Angela watched her as she did so, silently.

Olivia put the pictures down.

"Angela. How do you see this? Do you dream them? Do you hear people talking about it?" Olivia asked. Angela shook her head.

"I see it. In my head. Sometimes in dreams. Other times, I'm just walking down the hall or eating pudding and they come to me." She said quietly, almost dreamily.

"Do you feel like you have to draw them?" Olivia asked, remembering the man who was linked to the Ghost Network.

"No," Angela said. "I just draw them. So I can look at them later. Sometimes, like with dreams, they fade away." She glanced at Olivia. "That's not all I can do, you know." Olivia leaned closer to her, over the table.

"What do you mean?" She asked softly.

"I hear people's thoughts. Like, right now, outside, Zoey is thinking about Peter. Wondering if he's single. Thinking how nice he is." Olivia frowned slightly. "And you. Right now, you're head's full of thoughts. Will I be able to help? Why did I call you Olive, like Nick Lane? Am I part of the Cortexiphan trials?"

Olivia stared at Angela. "Angela? Would you like to come with me?"

"Yes, very much so." She said, smiling. Olivia smiled.

Olivia and Angela made for the door, hoping very much to dodge Summner, something that didn't happen.

"So," he said darkly. "I see you're taking another of my patients."

"Temporarily." Olivia said shortly.

"You're making a mistake," he said.

"I seem to recalling you saying that before," the unimpressed blonde said. Summner scowled.

"She's dangerous," he insisted. Angela shifted behind Olivia a bit more, under Summner's dark glare.

"She'll be a help to us," Olivia said angrily. "Please get out of our way."

Summner stepped out of their way, then stopped her.

"Agent Dunham, pass something along to Peter." He said. Olivia stopped. "Tell Peter that I've sent the petition to the state, and that it's only a matter of time." Olivia frowned, and Summner smiled at her confusion. "Oh? He didn't tell you? Ask him about that."

--

Walter cheerfully showed Angela around the lab.

"Yes, and this is my autopsy table. As you can see, there's a body there right now," he said, leading the woman around. Angela was borrowing some of Olivia's clothes, and was wearing a filmy, billowy summer dress, barefooted, her wide, child-like eyes full of wonder as Walter explained everything to her. The older man was happy to find a rapt audience in the young woman and eagerly explained the smallest thing.

Olivia went over to Peter, her arms crossed, as Peter watched Walter and Angela with amusement.

"Peter?" Olivia asked. Peter turned.

"Yeah?"

"Summner mentioned something to me." Peter looked questioningly. "He said that he'd sent the petition, and that it was only a matter of time."

Walter and Angela looked over at Peter, and Angela looked amazed at the abrupt change in Peter.

For a second, all the defenses and walls he'd built up; the cool mien and cocky front vanished. It crumbled in a second, and Angela could hear everything he thought with startling clarity.

_Oh no… Walter… No… I won't let that bastard take him back. _Angela watched the man sympathetically.

Olivia could have asked him anything in that second, and he would have answered it truthfully, distractedly. But Olivia wouldn't take advantage of him like that. She waited, and the moment passed, and Peter was normal again, if quite worried.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Peter?" Olivia asked. Walter walked over, Angela close behind him.

Peter glanced at Walter, then changed the subject. "So, Angela, is it?"

"Yes." Angela said, affably helping him out. "I can read minds."

"Oh… Well… don't read mine." Peter said awkwardly.

"I'll try not to," the psychic assured him. "Though… Dr Bishop is thinking so loudly, I can't hear anyone else." Walter looked sheepish, and Angela smiled.

"Well, let's find out what makes you… erm…" Walter trailed off.

"Tick?" Angela asked.

"Yes. Yes, tick. Come on, Son," Walter gestured for Peter to follow, taking Angela's hand and dragging her over away from a frowning Olivia.

Angela gently worked her hand out of Walter's and walked back over to Olivia, leaving Walter to explain the procedure to Peter cheerfully.

"He's worried," she said to the blonde, who stared at her. "He's scared, and for lots of different reasons. But he hides it naturally." Olivia frowned, and Angela turned to her. "Sort of like you, Olive."

"Olivia." The agent said firmly. "My name is Olivia."

"Sure it is," Angela said placidly. "Sure it is."


	5. Chapter 5

**Mr Super Czar: (sigh) The lone review. XD Oh yes, he totally smokes. And thank you! I'm brilliant? (basks in her own brilliance)**

Angela sat in the same chair that Peter sat in when they were finding out about Little Hill, sensors pressed against her forehead, calm and collected, if a bit pale.

"Now, I need you to use your power on someone," Walter said distractedly, checking the computers and sensors. "It doesn't matter on who. Just focus, and we'll see how you do it." Angela nodded and looked around. She passed over Walter; she really didn't want to see what went on in his brain. Olivia probably wouldn't like it if she looked into her brain. And Astrid seemed boring.

That left Peter.

She closed her eyes and focused on the man. His thoughts didn't come in coherent terms. They came in images and sounds, brief flickers of conversation that passed by too quickly to be made sense of. All she could tell was that he was scared for Walter, worried for Olivia. Right now, he was tense, fearful. She could understand why.

Walter watched in wonder as the computer screen burst into life; lines jumping all around.

"Ah! I see!" He gasped, rushing around, gathering items.

"What?" Olivia asked, her eyes glued to Angela, who was completely still.

"She can project her unique electronic waves into other people's brains, effectively seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and remembering everything they see, hear, smell, taste and remember!" Walter explained excitedly. "She's a telepath!" Olivia blinked in incomprehension.

"Basically," Peter said, cutting in. "Every brain is like a private internet network, and Angela's hacking into different ones."

"Yes, exactly," Walter said, nodding. "I believe that her 'premonitions' are simply images that she accidentally picks up from other brains. I don't believe she has control over her abilities; she could easily be expelling her waves constantly."

"Well, could she help us find the one who killed all the people?" Olivia asked.

"Theoretically, she could search through minds to find thoughts relating to the attack, and find the face of the person, or even the name," Walter said. "But that would take a great deal of time and energy on her part."

Angela was unaware of this conversation. She continued to submerge herself into Peter's kind, warm, if flawed, thoughts. Brief flashes of things that seemed loving and comforting weaved themselves into her head, soothing her, making her relax. Memories of things like the ocean and the smell of pancakes in the morning. The sound of a piano playing softly. A voice, sweet and flawed, singing a lullaby.

Peter dwelled on these things; called them up often. They were fresh, if blurry, memories. Things he went back to for comfort. Angela smiled.

The memories became more recent, more clear.

The sun glinting on a woman's golden hair.

The quirk of the woman's smile.

The flash of determination in her green eyes.

_Olivia… _Angela thought, bemused.

And then, just like that, it was over. The thoughts were cut off abruptly, and Angela gasped, not in pain but in shock. Walter and Olivia walked over.

"Angelica? What's wrong?" Walter asked.

"Her name is Angela, Walter," Astrid said, starting to remove the sensors from the woman's head. Angela twisted around to stare at Peter, who was making a show of ignoring Angela and doing something with a computer.

"Peter?" She asked quietly. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" Peter asked coolly, too cool to be telling the truth.

"You shut me out," the telepath said softly. "No one's ever done that before."

"Peter has a very private mind," Walter said, though he was frowning quizzically. Olivia shook her head and turned to Angela, who was getting up from the chair.

"Angela? I need to ask you for a favor." Olivia said. Angela watched her questioningly. "I need you to find someone by searching people's memories for the attack on Massive Dynamic. This," she held up the picture Angela had drawn. "I need you to find the mind you drew this from and find the person responsible. Do you think you can do that?"

"Maybe," Angela said. "But first…"

"Yes?"

"Can we eat? I'm starving."

--

Olivia stood outside, under a streetlight, in the dark night of Boston, getting some fresh air. Peter had brought burgers and fries from a near-by diner, and while Olivia was famished, she went outside first.

So many questions. Was Angela treated with Cortexiphan? She almost certainly was, but sometimes things just occurred naturally. Olivia doubted this was the case, however.

Was the attack on Massive Dynamic connected to ZFT? Bell was the apparent founder of ZFT; if the terrorist cell was behind it, why would Bell order an attack on his own corporation. Of course, all evidence pointed to Bell being somewhat detached from ZFT.

Olivia heard footsteps and looked up. A tall, brown haired, sad-looking man walked up.

"Are you Olivia Dunham?" He asked, his voice deep and gravely.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"A friend of Peter's. I was hoping you could… talk some sense into him. He seems to trust you." He held out his hand. "I'm Mischa, an old friend of Peter's."

Olivia's eyes narrowed as she shook his hand. "By an old friend, do you mean a-"

"Criminal? Yes." Mischa leaned against the wall next to Olivia and took out a cigarette. Olivia suddenly realized that this was the man in Angela's drawing, but before she could say anything (what would she say anyway?), he glanced at her. "You smoke?"

"No." Olivia said. Mischa shrugged and took a deep drag. "What did you want me to tell Peter?"

"Peter's a good friend of mine. We've gotten each other out of more tough spots than I'd care to admit," Mischa said, turning to Olivia. "Peter's made some enemies here, Miss Dunham. Some dangerous enemies. He owes a quarter of a million dollars to a crime lord. A crime lord who's very peeved about Peter's running off to Europe. And now Big Eddie knows he's here." Mischa looked at Olivia in desperation. "Tell him to run. Tell him to hide, like he always does. Tell him to leave, and this time, not to come back."

"We need him," Olivia protested. "I can't just-"

"If he doesn't leave now, he'll die." Mischa said. That made Olivia stop and stare. Mischa, satisfied with the impression he'd made, spoke again, imploringly. "Tell him to leave. Please, Miss Dunham." Putting out his cigarette, he put his hands in his pants pockets and sighed, walking away, leaving Olivia in the dark.

Olivia watched him go, and headed quickly for the lab. Mischa's words echoed horribly in her ears. He'll die. He'll be killed.

Olivia opened the door to the lab, ready to tell Peter what the man had said, then stopped, shocked.

Peter, Astrid, Walter and Angela were all sitting around a table, eating and talking and laughing. Peter was recounting some story that had the rest of the table, including Peter, gasping for air.

"S-so he goes up to the dealer and he's like, 'So, you're my identical hand twin! We'll m-make millions!'" They all busted out laughing, and Olivia's warning died on her lips. Angela looked up, grinning, her eyes bright with fun, and for a moment, she was absolutely beautiful.

"Olivia! You have to try these fries! They're like deep fried crack!" She said. Olivia smiled and closed the door to the lab, walking in.

"Really? They're that good?" She asked.

"Oh yeah!" Angela said, grinning. "Oh, and… I think I can do it. I'll start tomorrow."

**Deep fried crack... I called some fries that once, and the table just went quiet. It was hilarious.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Jasper303: FINALLY! I too love it when my favorite characters get beat up. Are we sick? XD I found the silence hilarious. Oh, Peter Whumpage will come in spades!**

**MSC: I was rather proud of that. XD**

**Ocein: Thank you! That's kind of how I pictured her power. It just worked out that way, I suppose. I'm a computer nerd, so I think in those types of terms.**

**Sorry it took me awhile to update yesterday. I was at home with my sick little brother, writing a history final. **

She walked quickly through the streets of Boston, biting the join of her index finger. Where could they be? It would have been on the news if he'd died in that attack; he obviously hadn't.

Fine. She'd put that off for now.

She'd focus on the woman called Olivia Dunham and the man called Peter Bishop for now.

She walked up into the campus of Harvard, thoughts clouded by hate. Here were the people that killed him, the man she loved. She walked up through the campus, unnoticed by chatting students.

But she was noticed by someone.

Angela had been sitting silently for hours, in a meditative position in the lab. Her eyes closed, she drifted from thought to thought, brain to brain, like floating through water. It was a feeling of endless sound and sight and touch; for the first few minutes, she'd floundered, the feeling of endlessness disconcerting.

After a while, she'd become used to it. She jumped from thought to thought, searching. So far, she'd had nothing.

Olivia stood, watching Angela, and Peter walked up from another part of the lab, smiling.

"She hasn't moved in three hours, Liv. I doubt that'll change anytime soon," he said. Olivia glanced at him, then back to Angela, anxious.

"Peter? If something were wrong, you'd tell me, right?" She asked slowly. Peter looked slightly surprised, then considered that.

"If it was something you could help me with," he admitted. "Why?"

Olivia took a deep breath.

"A man walked up to me last night, while I was outside. He told me to tell you that Big Eddie knows you're here, and that you should run," like you always do. She didn't say that, though.

Peter was silent for a long moment, then said, "Mischa shouldn't have spoken to you."

"So he wasn't lying?"

"No, he wasn't. But it's nothing."

"Nothing?" Olivia turned to stare at Peter in shock. He didn't meet her eyes, instead, he became extremely interested in Walter's recipe for root beer. "Peter!" Peter looked up, then sighed.

"I've dodged them before, Olivia. It's no big deal. Mischa was just freaking out over nothing."

"Alright. What about what Summner said?" Olivia asked quietly. Peter turned away.

"I can handle it," he said quietly. Olivia's jaw clenched.

"I guess Mischa was wrong," she said softly. Peter turned to her. "You don't trust me after all." She walked past him over to Walter, leaving him in a state of shock, worry, guilt, and regret.

"How long has she been like this?" Olivia asked Walter.

"Oh, several hours," he replied. "It's only a matter of time." Olivia frowned and nodded.

"Olivia." Olivia turned and Peter reluctantly motioned for her to come over to him. Olivia, frowning, complied. "Alright. I haven't been… entirely truthful to you." Olivia said nothing. "But that's not because I don't trust you. It's because I've developed a nasty habit of being very self-reliant." Olivia chuckled. "But… Alright." He sighed. "Summner told me, during the Ben Stockton case, that he was going to petition the state to have Walter removed from my custody." Olivia's eyes widened. "I'd forgotten about it since I hadn't heard anything, but obviously he wasn't bluffing." Olivia shook her head, then nodded for him to continue. "And, Mischa was telling the truth. If I stay, I'll probably get my ass beat." Olivia opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a hand and smiled. "But I'm not leaving."

"Peter-" Olivia started, but Peter shook his head.

"No. Now, had he come to me six months ago, I would have left in a heartbeat. But he came a bit too late." He blushed a little and Olivia looked at him in a new light.

"You're not leaving because you care about this," she said.

"Not necessarily about _this,_" he said awkwardly. "About Walter. And… you." Olivia smiled.

"Thank you, Peter," she said. He shrugged, grinning rather goofily. There was a moment of comfortable silence, but then the silence was broken. By Angela. She shrieked and fell out of the chair, onto the floor.

Walter looked up in shock as Peter and Olivia rushed over to her.

"Angela? What is it!?" Peter asked, shocked, putting his hand on her shoulders.

"She's here!" Angela screamed. "She's here! I can feel her; see her! She's here, and she's going to kill us!" Peter stared in sick horror at Angela, then turned to Olivia, who stood nearby, horrified. Walter and Astrid stood nearby, shocked.

Angela suddenly flung herself backwards, her back arching sharply, shrieking. Peter grabbed her and held her tightly, trying to stop her from hurting herself.

"She's here! She hates you! She hates us! We killed him, and how she'll kill us!" Angela screamed, curling up into a ball against Peter, sobbing. Peter gritted his teeth, then turned to Astrid and Walter.

"Astrid! The syringe on the desk. It's got clear liquid in it." He said. Astrid rushed over and grabbed it, chucking it to Peter. He caught it and jammed it into Angela's throat. She gasped, then relaxed with a sigh, sedated.

For a minute, the only noise in the room was heavy breathing. Then, Peter turned to Walter, pale and horrified, and gave voice to the question that was running through Olivia's brain.

"What the hell did you do, Walter?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay... So.... I replied to comments three times. Each time, either something happened with the internet, or the computer, or my little brother clicked out of the window before I could save. So... It's not that I don't want to. It's just that my head hurts and I can't. **

**I'm not happy with this chapter, but I hope you like it.**

Angela lay on the autopsy table, not dead, but sleeping, quietly and peacefully.

The others sat at the table, silent and grim. Peter kept glancing Walter, who was hunched over, staring at the tabletop. Olivia sipped her coffee distractedly, absorbed in her thoughts. Astrid kept looking at Angela, looking worried.

"Walter," Peter said quietly. Walter flinched at his son's quiet voice, glancing, panicked, at him. "Would Cortexiphan do this? Would it be able to do something like this?" Walter looked haunted, but, hesitantly, nodded.

"It could. Cortexiphan enables the subject to control his or her electronic waves. The manner of which depends on the subject." Walter explained, rushed. Peter sighed, holding his head in his hands.

"You experimented on her," he said quietly. "You experimented on Olivia, on Angela, on that guy, Nick Lane." Olivia winced at the memory of that haunted man. "And, given the evidence, you probably experimented on me too." Walter sighed.

"Peter-"

"Walter, I really don't want to hear it."

Olivia sighed and put down her cup. "What do you think she meant?" She asked.

"What? When she was screaming?" Peter replied distractedly.

"No, Peter, when she called French fries 'deep fried crack'." Walter said sarcastically. Peter glanced at him waspishly.

"What was that for?" He asked coolly.

"Everything I did then, I did for-" Walter started defensively, but Peter cut him off, his hands slamming flat against the table, jumping to his feet.

"For what? Science? Walter, for God's sake, why can't you just admit that what you did was wrong?!" Peter yelled. The girls stared in shock. "You've experimented on children, gerbils, rats, worms. You're the bane of all things cute and fluffy and LIVING. And at this point, I'd probably guess dead too!" Walter looked abashed, staring at his son in shock. "I would also guess that you are the source of all evil in the New England area, because, _Walter, _every single thing we've dealt with, you did in your… Cold war era lab!"

There was a stunned silence while Walter stared at Peter in hurt shock, and the girls were stunned. Peter got, from Walter's face, the impression that he'd kicked a puppy. Backing up angrily, Peter kicked the wall angrily, trying desperately trying to get rid of excess rage. Failing, he stalked towards the door.

"Just give me a minute," he snapped to the room in general, slamming the door behind him.

Walter turned away, looking as though he was about to burst into tears.

"I didn't know it would come to this," he told Olivia desperately. Olivia said nothing.

"How many kids were there?" Astrid asked, shocked.

"Thirty. Fifteen pairs of two." Walter said quietly. "The range of powers the drug created were… widespread, but similar. Psychics, Telekinetics, Pyrokenetics, Telepaths… It depended on the mind and how it worked." Olivia's eyes narrowed.

"Anything else you'd like to tell us?" She asked coldly.

"No…" Walter said.

Angela sat up suddenly, her eyes wide.

"She's here."

--

Peter walked through the campus stiffly, trying to calm down. Sometimes, the things Walter did came back to haunt, not just Walter, but everyone else, and in the worst way.

As he walked towards his car, he passed a woman. She was small and pale, with huge, dark circles under her eyes and short brown hair. She walked towards Harvard, huddled down, her hand nestled inside her pocket. She looked lost, looking around.

"Hey, are you looking for someone?" He asked. She looked up, looking like a spooked cat.

"W-what? Oh, yes," she said. "Um… I'm looking for… Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop." Peter cocked his head, frowning.

"Really? Why?" He asked.

The woman stared at him as though she didn't understand his question.

"Why are you looking for Olivia and I? Do you need help?" He asked. The woman stiffened.

"You're Peter Bishop?" She asked slowly.

"Yeah, who are you?" He asked.

The woman took her hand out of her pocket, holding up a vial of… nothing.

"You took my husband from me," she said softly. "You and that bitch."

"What?" Peter asked, shocked.

"Freeze!" Olivia appeared from behind, pointing a gun at the woman. "Put it down slowly and put your hands on your head!"

Peter was still trying to puzzle out just who this woman was as she glared at Olivia.

"Are you Olivia Dunham?" She asked coldly.

"I said, put that down and put your hands on your head!"

"Is that a yes?"

"You're Jones' wife?" Peter asked, the pieces clicking together. Olivia's eyebrows shot up. The woman said nothing. She rose her arm to throw the vial down on the pavement. Olivia pointed her gun and got ready to pull the trigger…

Peter grabbed the woman's fist and tackled her. The vial fell out of her hand and rolled towards a crowd of shocked under-grads. It hit the Chuck of a young woman, and she started to stumble back.

"Freeze!" Peter yelled with all the authority of Olivia. The woman froze. "Don't move." The student nodded hurriedly. "Please pick that up. Don't drop it. Don't squeeze it. Don't even breath on it." (A.N.: Peter, stop scaring her….) The woman picked it up very, very carefully as Olivia ran over and handcuffed the screaming, enraged, insane woman. Peter went over, his heart pounding, and took it from her.

"Was that gonna explode?" The student asked. Peter started to say something, then thought about it.

"Yes." Peter said seriously. "It was gonna explode." The crowd of students took a healthy step back, and Peter smiled.

As he turned, though, the smile faded. He HAD killed Jones. Not that Jones hadn't essentially killed himself by traveling through… Time and space? Just space? Still…

He HAD cut him in two very irregular halves.

Peter sighed, resigning to the fate of more nightmares.

**Peter's a good guy. I think killing someone would weigh heavily on his mind.**


End file.
